If we have learned anything from the deluge of holiday movies, ubiquitous decorations, and jingle bell-infused songs, it's that the cultural zeitgeist has decreed Christmas is a holiday best served chilly. Is that so?
The bigwigs in the top of the equator may have convinced the world, but that's only because they are without the inherent understanding we denizens of the south possess: a sun-drenched Christmas is simply superior. This season is fraught enough – irrespective of temperature – but at least we don't have to battle seasonal depression on top of it all.
And this isn't just hot air. I spent my entire childhood experiencing cold festive seasons. Despite my family originating in New Zealand, my father's career meant inevitable international moves. My younger years were scattered across the UK and the US, meaning every December brought dark skies by 4pm and a biting chill on my cheeks. The sole silver lining? The fashion choices; layering is effortlessly chic.
In all honesty, a cold Christmas has its appeal. It's traditional, iconic, and the possibility of snow is undeniably enchanting. The cosy charm of a frosty gathering is hard to disregard. Yet, with my extended family an ocean away, I always felt I was lacking an true celebration that not even the most decadent hot chocolate could make up for.
Everything changed when another move brought my family to Australia. There, I finally experienced a proper festive family affair, joined by extended relatives for the first time. With a larger group to entertain, my father got experimental in the kitchen, crafting a heavily marinated vodka jelly that was famously strong. We slept soundly that night.
This became our tradition for years – celebrating together with family and friends, complete with playful battles across the table. That was, until my parents heeded the opportunity of a new job and moved to a notoriously chilly part of northern England.
Visiting them for Christmas after a long absence, I expected a surge of nostalgic longing. Instead, I found myself yearning for everything that made a summer Christmas special. Sipping sangria in the sun. Feasting upon piles of fresh fruit. Loved ones being just a phone call away. Hot-pink sunsets stretched across the sky. Suddenly, I was a summer celebration advocate.
"The warmth soothed the sorrow in significant ways."
This feeling was reinforced after my father passed away. My mother decided to move back to New Zealand. The first Christmas without him was profoundly difficult, his absence felt everywhere. Yet, being once again surrounded by family under the gentle heat of the summer sun alleviated the grief in monumental ways.
All this said, I must confess to being a walking contradiction. This year, I'll be celebrating during winter in South Korea, and I'm genuinely excited to explore Seoul in my fluffiest coat, hoping for a glimpse of snow. The cold Christmas propaganda still has a little hold on me!
Nevertheless, I'm keen to return home for another New Year's Day under the Australian summer sun. Knowing my family – including a newborn nephew – will be close by as we enter the new year fills me with a joy my younger self always craved. Not even the deepest powder can compare to that feeling.
A tech strategist and writer passionate about digital transformation and emerging technologies.